Dark Healer
by Mardya
Summary: A young Chiss medical student is found Force Sensitive and sent to Korriban to pass the trials of the Sith. How will he carve a name for himself in a society where aliens are regarded second-class citizens? (A Star Wars: The Old Republic story with a cast of original characters)
1. A New Destiny

**A/N**

Disclaimer: Neither Star Wars or The Old Republic setting is owned by me. All rights go to Disney, Bioware and EA. I only claim ownership of my original characters

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**  
 **A NEW DESTINY**

"The Chiss need a presence among the Sith," Aristocra Mragh'awri'Nuruodo said, his expression neutral. "You are aware of the Alliance, of course?" He continued, referring to the alliance between the Sith Empire and the Chiss Ascendancy.

"Of course, who isn't?" Rréoulath replied, despite the question having been mostly rhetorical. His voice was smooth and pleasant, with the soothing quality so many doctors possessed. He was still young, only recently graduated from the medical branch at the Csaplan University, but where other students had received praise for their success, Rréoulath's name was spoken with fear and suspicion.

It had not always been that way.

Until very recently he had been the rising star of House Athaven, known for his intellectual prowess, pragmatism and excellent manners; all qualities the Chiss valued highly. He was a talented medical student and when the exams came around, there was no doubt he would pass; the only question was if he would do so with honors. When the results had come in, the whispers had exploded. At first the rumors had merely claimed an unprecedented success, but all too soon the whispers turned vicious. 'Impossible' was the word that was used, and it conveyed volumes of doubt and disapproval. Supported by his family, friends and even some of his professors, Rréoulath had dismissed the insinuation of foul play as childish attempts to undermine his reputation by envious rivals, but regardless of his denials the rumors had persisted.

Slowly, the tide had turned. Admiration had turned to suspicion and his accomplishments at University had come under scrutiny. His papers were sent to a Review Committee, and he was called in to defend his answers before a judiciary tribunal.

Only five minutes into the session, one of the judges had pushed the datapad containing Rréoulaths results away and looked upon the young Chiss with a raised brow. "This seems nothing more than a sequence of very fortunate guesswork, Rhuadrr'Eoull'Athaven," he had drawled, tapping a fingertip against the datapad.

"Fortunate for the patient, perhaps. The pallor of the skin, and the discoloring of the eyes were further indications the original diagnosis was wrong," Rréoulath replied. "I am not to blame if others fail to see the obvious."

"The discoloration was very slight," the second judge remarked. "How did you spot it?"

"I don't know. I just did, it was like an instinct, a feeling that I couldn't ignore." He sensed the suspicion and covert hostility that lurked behind their questions and when a summons for a medical exam followed after the hearing, he had not been surprised. As the tests had progressed, his doctors had seemed troubled, and for the first time since the investigation had started, he felt doubt. His confidence wavered and his family's attempts to reassure him fell on deaf ears.

He had tried to prepare himself for bad news, but when the results came in, it was all he could do to leave with his head held high until he had reached the privacy of his bedroom. He had thrown himself onto his bed, burying his head between his arms, desperately trying to hold himself together. He had managed, his hands clawed into his pillow, until his mother came and pulled him in her arms. "Force sensitive or not, you're still my son," she had whispered, and he had lost it, crying and shouting while she held him and stroked his hair until he finally calmed.

They all soon noticed the changes Rréoulath's affliction brought into their life.

When people spoke of him, they no longer addressed his accomplishments but whispered of the tragedy that had befallen the heir of House Athaven. Rhuadrr'Eoull'Athaven was one of those rare cases, a force-sensitive born to a family of non-force users, and it had meant the ruin of his name.

His friends had stopped returning his calls and even Mwarin, with whom he had shared a first kiss at his graduation party, no longer called. His best friend, Thwrovh, had made excuses, claiming to be busy in that shy and awkward manner that always made Rréoulath's heart ache.

Inevitably, word of the scandal had reached the Aristocra and a meeting had been arranged. "I am aware that the discovery of your condition may have come as a shock," Ghawrin said, crimson eyes studying the younger Chiss' face. "Your life may seem ruined, your ambitions thwarted and your situation desperate." Rréoulath acknowledged his words with a slight nod and Ghawrin continued, satisfied with the young man's controlled response. "No one regrets more than I that we must lose a skilled physician, but we must not close our eyes to the opportunity you represent."

"An opportunity?" Rréoulath echoed sharply.

"Indeed," Ghawrin replied. "Your parents have reassured me that your devotion to the Ascendancy is beyond reproach, your self-control exemplary and your intelligence satisfactory."

Rréoulath scoffed. "Only satisfactory?"

Ghawrin chuckled at the young man's indignation. "Unlike the Exam Committee I do not believe your condition the sole explanation for your success, but without further study we will never know how many of your answers were a result of your skill and how much was due to your affliction."

"Force sensitivity." Rréoulath corrected between clenched teeth, feeling his self-control fray.

"Force sensitivity," Ghawrin agreed with a faint nod. "In the aforementioned alliance with the Sith Empire, the Ascendancy has agreed that all force-sensitive younglings shall be sent to a Sith Academy to be trained in the ways of the force. Unlike them, your reasoning is not clouded by whims and emotions, nor a lust for more power." he said. "You possess the self-control required to see you through their training with unwavering loyalty. Your duty is clear, Rréoulath, you must go to Korriban, and inform us of their training methods." Ghawrin instructed. "Needless to say, this must remain between us. Do not share your information with anyone but myself."

Rréoulath swallowed hard, struggling to keep his voice under control. "This means exile?" From the corner of his eye, he saw his father lean towards him, raising his hand in a placating gesture. 'He knew'! The realization threw him off balance and a cold, tight sneer etched upon the young Chiss' lips. 'He knew and didn't tell me,' he thought, seething inwardly. 'How much more does he know that he hasn't told? Did they decide my fate already?'

Ghawrin had caught his gaze, crimson eyes locked on crimson eyes, and Rréoulath swallowed down his anger. "Not forever," Ghawrin replied, not without sympathy. "We intend no punishment, but it would be illogical to let slip an opportunity to study the Sith. We must learn more of their methods and mindset. For you, this means an opportunity to serve the Ascendancy far beyond her borders, to benefit her as a whole."

It was the best he could hope for, he realized. The option to return had been kept open, and he suspected his family's ties to House Nuruodo had played no small part in swaying the decision in his favor. If his lineage had been any less prestigious… No, he refused to think of what the consequences might have been. His family was what it was, and there was no profit in creating further scenarios of doom in his head.

"I would be honored, Sir. And I am grateful for the opportunity," he replied, shouldering a new destiny.

"Splendid, I'll make the arrangements with the Sith's ambassador." Ghawrin said, even as Rréoulath's father stood and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Thank you, Aristocra," he said. "And you as well, my son."

Rréoulath made no reply and remained silent until Ghawrin had made his farewells, extending only a curt nod when the Aristocra left. On any other day, his lack of decorum would have earned him a solemn, disapproving look from his father, but not this time. His mother refused to meet his gaze, her expression reflecting nothing but the grave courtesy as she would have displayed during a diplomatic reception. That was fine, she was not the one who had betrayed him.

"You knew! Do not deny it," he warned, confronting his father the instant Ghawrin was out the door. "I would like an explanation, father."

His father moved to stand behind his mother, his hands upon her shoulders, much like they had rested upon Rréoulath's shoulders only moments ago. "Aristocra Ghawrin has explained," he said tiredly. "We cannot leave this tactical advantage, even if you are our son. Your duty to the Ascendancy, your House, and family is clear."

"And to your brother," his mother reminded him gently. "We do not hold this against you, but your situation reflects upon Rraegath as well. His reputation will suffer because of your illness. As long as you are here, people will not forget, and your chances will not be the only ones lost."

"We cannot teach you what you must learn to control this affliction," his father put in. "Only the Sith hold that knowledge."

"You could have told me, I deserved to know; it is after all my life you're determining." Rréoulath complained, cringing inwardly as he realized how petulant it had sounded.

"I could have," his father acknowledged. "But Aristocra Ghawrin had to meet you and see your reaction. We had our hopes, but the decision was not yet made. It was your self-control that convinced him you are the right choice." He moved to sit down beside his son. "Do not underestimate the Sith," he warned. "They may not seem more than bloodthirsty brutes at first glance, but this is only true for those in the lower ranks. Those who have ascended, who have become proper Sith Lords, have done so for a reason."

"I will be careful," Rréoulath nodded reluctantly. "It isn't what I wanted, but I cannot deny that knowing how the Sith gain their power will be useful knowledge. I will do my best."

He raised his gaze to his father and smiled, a sudden feeling of warmth growing inside at the fierce pride he saw in his father's eyes.


	2. First Impressions

**FIRST IMPRESSIONS**

Once the decision had been made, there seemed no reason to delay his departure. Rréoulath plotted his journey to Korriban and booked passage on the Htisah Rcati, an Ascendancy vessel that would take him to Taris. There, he would change ships and board an Imperial transport that would take him into the heart of the Sith Empire. The Diplomatic Corps provided the reservations, and soon all there was left for him on Csilla was to pack his belonging and say goodbye to his family and what few friends remained.

Aside from his clothes and a few personal necessities, Rréoulath packed only his medical supplies and his scalpels. He wasn't certain of the curriculum at the Korriban Academy, but if there was even the slightest chance to pursue his medical career he refused to miss it due to a lack of preparation. The farewells to his family he kept short. Over the past weeks, his parents had surrounded him with care, given him advice and provided holobooks to read on his journey. His younger brother had hovered around him, full of questions and eager for every shred of knowledge about the Sith Empire. Rréoulath had hidden the resentment these constant reminders of this imminent exile caused and indulged Rraegath as much as he was able.

The continued effort to keep his misgivings hidden behind a wall of courtesy and pragmatism, however, did wear him down and by the time the family gathered on the spaceport to see him off, he was so tense that he barely managed a coherent farewell. He didn't want any more support or words of understanding; he only wanted the ordeal over with. To his chagrin, his parents seemed of an equal mind and although he knew they loved him, the feeling did sting.

Everything changed once he boarded the Ascendancy vessel. Here, no one knew him. Or if they did know, they were too polite to show it. He was treated just like any other passenger and the composure that had been drilled into him from a young age, flowed back into him, smoothing the tension from his sharp, angular features and replacing it with a stoic expression similar to the calm his fellow passengers displayed.

Standing on the observation deck, hands clasped behind his back, he watched as the white of Csilla's icy surface fell away until the huge windows showed only the darkness of space.

 _I may never return_ , he thought tiredly, feeling as empty as the void outside his window.

The Htisah Rcati was swift and engaged the hyperdrive as soon as it joined the Hydian Way, the hyperlane it would follow to Taris. On board Rréoulath kept himself busy with mild exercise and reading, alternating the latest articles in the medical branch with books on the history and political structure of the Sith Empire. He read about the exploits of Sith of old, and marveled at the rise of the Emperor, thousands of years ago. The comparisons between the reigning Dark Council and the Ascendancy's Ruling Houses excited him, and when, at last, the Ascendancy vessel docked at the Imperial orbital station hovering over Taris, he felt a first glimmer of excitement. One more stop would take him to the heart of the Galactic Power that had brought forth minds such as Darth Vowran's, or Sorzus Syn and the Sith Emperor. He would study at an Academy founded upon the teachings that had given these great minds their power, and he felt awed when he realized the privilege of studying at two of the most renowned institutes within the galaxy, the Sith Academy on Korriban and the University on Csilla.

He disembarked while his luggage was offloaded and crossed the station with calm and even strides that showed nothing of the excitement and curiosity he felt within, heading towards the gates of Hangar 4 XZB, where an Imperial Transport would be waiting to take him to the Vaiken Spacedock from where shuttles departed to Dromund Kaas and Korriban, his own destination. Before he could pass the gates, however, he was stopped at the check-in by a security guard wearing the Imperial colors.

"Name?" the guard asked, looking down his nose at the slender, blue-skinned alien in front of him.

"Rréoulath," he replied, only to be rewarded with a blank look.

"Ulath?" the official echoed, searching his datapad in vain for a match within the flight registration listing.

"No, Rréoulath." This time, he patiently stressed the double R and the vowel that followed.

The officer narrowed his eyes, fixing the Chiss with a contemptuous stare. "Not listed," he replied without consulting the register again.

"Impossible! I made the reservations myself. Let me see that," Rréoulath said, holding his hand out for the datapad.

"If I say the name is not on there, it's not on there," the officer sneered with malicious glee. "Do you understand, alien?"

Rréoulath's head snapped up, crimson eyes glowing with displeasure. So, this is how it'll be? They weren't so bold when the Diplomatic Corps was present, he mused, tempted to bring his family's status into play. The alien, red eyes bored into the officer's gaze, searchingly. No, he decided. He feels I am beneath him because I'm not from his Empire. Anything I say about my home will just reinforce his belief. I must get through to him on a level he can understand.

"Listen," he said at last, articulating the word slowly and clearly in a show of bored disdain. "My reservation is there and we both know it. If you can't read my name, look for the reservation that says 'Korriban' as its final destination."

The officer's eyes shot towards the datapad, and his face turned ashen.

"The Sith are expecting me," Rréoulath continued, building on the advantage the mention of Korriban had given him. "If I get in trouble for being late, I will make sure they will know which of their officers was such an incompetent fool that he couldn't read a simple name from a datapad. Perhaps they will even heed my advice regarding corrective measures."

The man swallowed and jabbed a fingertip at the touchscreen. "There it is," he exclaimed nervously. "Clear to board, Sir. Move along, and safe journey to you."

"Thank you." Rréoulath replied, pushing past security and heading towards the hangar, musing over the guard's fear regarding the Sith. _Strange. He should have been more concerned with failing at his duty,_ Rréoulath judged. _Then again, if the Sith are as insane and whimsical as the stories have them, his fear isn't unjustified. Who knows what those madmen would have done to him._ He frowned and dismissed the hapless officer from his thoughts, focusing instead on boarding and finding his way around the imperial vessel.

Once he had found the room he'd share with two other passengers until they'd reach Yavin, Rréoulath flung himself down on the bed and folded his arms behind his head, staring up at the dull metal ceiling plating. I am in Imperial Space now, he reminded himself. The rules are different here. I must learn to understand these people, as flawed and foolish as they may be.

His thoughts were interrupted by the voices of two men, his roommates for the duration of the flight. "Evening," one greeted cheerfully.

Rréoulath turned his head, opening his eyes. The man who greeted him had turned his back and was busy stacking his belongings in the wall locker. From what Rréoulath could see from his bend back, he was young, perhaps twenty years old and well built. "Good evening," he replied.

The other man sat down on the last empty bed and nodded. He was of the same age as the other, but where the first had short, blonde hair, this one was dark and kept his hair long enough to tie it back into a ponytail.

"Staying on Yavin?" the blonde asked, closing the locker and turning to face the Chiss.

"Korriban."

"Sith?" the man inquired sharply, his posture tensing. His gaze trailed over Rréoulath's form and some of the tension eased out of his body at what he found or did not find.

"Someday perhaps," Rréoulath replied.

"Oh, still training? Yeah I wondered when I didn't see a lightsaber. I wish you all the best there Sir. And good luck. Not all return from Korriban." He paused and jutted a thumb towards the dark-haired man who had been silent throughout the exchange and who was watching Rréoulath with a friendly smile. "That's Draav. I'm Baro. He and I are heading for Dromund Kaas."

Rréoulath rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow. "I hope to visit there someday. It rains a lot, doesn't it? I did read about the planet and Kaas City, but I'd like to see it for myself. Especially the Citadel."

"Rain, thunder, and lightning. All of it in spades, with some pretty bad wind on top of it." Baro confirmed, sitting down on the bed. "Say, think you could do us a favor?" he continued, exchanging a look with his dark-haired friend. "It's a long trip, and we don't plan on spending the entire journey alone if you catch my meaning." he grinned. "We may want to bring company up from time to time. We'll warn you in advance, of course."

"Of course," Rréoulath replied drily, arching a brow.

"We'd return the favor if you want to bring a girl to the cabin, you're sure to come across something that catches your interest." Draav said, and Rréoulath gestured dismissively.

"I am not interested," he began, frowning when he caught a sudden spark in the dark man's eyes.

"In girls?" Draav inquired, lithe body poised forward as he dealt the Chiss a shy smile. "If your tastes lie elsewhere…"

"Not interested in company. No offense," Rréoulath finished hastily, swinging his feet over the edge and coming to his feet. As he passed the men towards the door, he felt Draav's eyes follow him until the doors slid shut, blocking his view.

Determined to study the strange mixture of races and cultures that made up the Empire, Rréoulath spent as much time as possible in the common room and on the observation deck. Where other passengers looked at the stars through the huge, scenic window, he watched them, observing their interactions and mannerisms.

With the shared room occupied, or so he assumed, he felt no hurry to return and instead enjoyed the opportunity to study the people he was condemned to interact with for what might be the rest of his life.

Listening in on their conversations he found them strange and alien, their chosen topics baffled him. Often they would comment on their cabins, loudly stating their opinions on the most futile details with the self-importance of a general directing his troops. They discussed dinner choices, the weather and gossip about friends, family and their fellow passengers. Once he overheard two young Imperials discuss the affairs of their superiors in a manner that first chased a blush to his cheeks, and then disgusted him enough to move to a table well out of earshot.

"They will talk about anything, as long as it's in bad taste," he scoffed in an ever growing contempt that soared when Draav's blonde friend informed him that he too had become a popular topic.

"They see you as an exotic treat," Baro replied. "There are bets." At Rréoulath's incredulous look, he continued. "Girls, man! They wonder who you'll invite up here. Oh, they all claim they'll turn you down, but that's just talk. All you have to do is give them a smile coupled with that stern look you get. Yeah that's the one," he said, pointing at Rréoulath's face.

"I have better things to do. And none of those things involves company." he replied haughtily. "It is a ridiculous waste of time and if you two want to keep your credits, I advise against getting involved. Or place your money on me not taking anyone to bed, as long as I get half of your winnings." Catching the rueful glances the pair exchanged, he pressed his lips into a thin line and marched out. Back straight and head held high; his rigid posture spoke volumes of his perceived superiority. 'Humans!' he scoffed inwardly, not for the first time.

But whether he liked it or not, Baro and Draav had not been wrong. Now that he'd been alerted, and no longer tuned out the babble at other tables, he caught snippets of conversations involving him. His appearance, his manners, who he talked to and even his lack of a notable accent; all seemed to be fuel for the small talk around him. "Did you see those eyes?" he heard someone say. "You can't see where he is looking and I swear they'd glow in the dark. Creepy!"

"I know, but somehow I feel it when he's looking at me. And it gives me goosebumps in all the right ways." He heard a young Twi'lek woman reply, her tone practically dripping sensuality.

Rréoulath was baffled with their perceived short-sightedness, the obsession with trivialities, their lack of decorum and the glee with which they embraced gossip. Listening to their talk he felt an understanding for the Sith who surely must rule these Imperial citizens as strictly as a father must guide his still ignorant children. Without their rule, he thought, the Empire would fall apart under the common folk's self-importance and prejudice.

That evening during dinner his thoughts followed a similar track as he jabbed a fork at the meal that had finally been brought over by a reluctant waiter, and sampled the fare with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, all too aware of the disdainful looks from the Imperial citizens around him.

 _Inferior fools_! he thought, icily returning a look from two ladies at a neighboring table. The youngest of the two blushed. Returning his own gaze to his plate, Rréoulath just caught the women leaning in close towards each other, lips moving in whisper as they watched him eat. He sighed and tried to ignore the growing feeling of discomfort, when another voice sounded nearby. "I heard there was another passenger heading for Korriban," a female voice said. "Would that be you?"

"Yes," he replied, looking up. A young woman stood at his table, dressed in a pair of pants that looked comfortable and a matching sweater. She had brown hair, tucked into a neat ponytail, and brown eyes that smiled down at him.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, pulling the other chair at the table out.

"I do but I doubt that would dissuade you," he replied, putting his fork down and rising politely from his chair. "Please, be my guest." When she had seated herself, he did the same.

"A joke, I almost can't believe it." She smiled, picking up the menu. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kara." Seeing his quirked eyebrow as a gesture of protest, she went on quickly. "It's 'my Lord' or 'my Lady' if you insist on being formal, but I'd prefer if you simply used my name."

Rréoulath cursed inwardly, only now spotting the lightsaber hilt she wore at her side. Even though Kara had not made a big deal out of his faux-pas, the breach of etiquette troubled him. "My apologies Lady Kara. This trip has been more taxing then I would like to admit."

Kara signaled the waiter and leaned back, regarding her company with visible curiosity. "Think nothing of it. I meant it when I said I preferred to be called Kara. I just don't know if it works the other way around. You are Chiss correct? I first met one of your kind while stationed on Hoth. I swear I saw them cringe every time I tried speaking their name. No wonder they preferred to be addressed by their rank." she teased. "If it weren't for your core names, I'd never manage, and since I've heard all kind of odd sounds when people talk about you, I guess you have one of the more difficult names?"

"Rhuadrr'Eoul'Athaven," he replied, offering up his full name rather than the core that was commonly used. She groaned and he allowed an amused smile to touch the corners of his lips. "Rréoulath, for those with an unskilled tongue."

"That's only marginally better," she said.

The waiter had arrived at their table and waited patiently until Kara chose to address him. "Bantha steak with string bean salad and a glass of wine, Kaasian red," she ordered, folding the menu.

The waiter bowed and left, and Kara turned her attention back to the Chiss, watching him eat. "You must be new," she said, resuming their conversation where they'd left off. "A Chiss on Korriban, oh the stir you will cause at the academy." Upon his nod, she smiled. "You may run into my brother there. Kevaarn started his training two months ago. Maybe you'll even end up in the same class. Who is your overseer?"

He paused his dinner to check his datapad, crimson eyes scanning the confirmation letter from the Academy. "Overseer Labranth," he replied when he found the name, and looked at her across the table.

Kara shook her head. "He has been assigned to Lord Overseer Kraas. A shame, I would have loved to see more of you." She hesitated and waited for him to resume eating before continuing. "I don't know if I should tell you this, but you're in for trouble. Labranth hates your kind."

Rréoulath raised a brow and his lips set into a disapproving, tight line. "I am not in the habit of discussing my superiors, Kara," he rebuked her, voice cold. "Not even if they harbor some sort of prejudice towards the Ascendancy."

"Not just the Chiss," she said impatiently. "Any alien."

He scowled and draped his cutlery over the empty plate. "I see. Are there many aliens on Korriban?"

 _Or will I be the Overseer's sole target?_ he mused, recalling his encounter at the Orbital Station. _I hope not. That is one complication I don't need._

"More now than before," Kara explained while the waiter returned with her meal, setting a steaming hot plate before her. A second waiter brought the wine and poured her drink. "Darth Malgus has advocated for a long time that the Empire needs more Sith," she continued. "The unworthy will fall during their training, he claims, and should an alien rise through the ranks, so much the better. Eventually, he convinced the Dark Council of his views, and now the Academy is open to other races as well. Not everyone agrees, but those who disagree are smart enough to keep their mouth shut." She reached for her wine, watching him closely over the glass. "I have seen Zabrak and Twi'lek acolytes, but never a Chiss."

"Indeed," he murmured, schooling his features into a mask of diplomatic congeniality.

 _Twi'lek and Zabrak? The Empire must be desperate to allow slaves and savages on Korriban's sacred ground', he thought, intrigued. Aristocra Ghawrin was right, now is the time for the Ascendancy to insert ourselves where the real power is. This Labranth sounds like he might pose a threat to our plans. No matter, problems are there to be solved. I will find a way. First, I must write my parents and inform Ghawrin of what I've learned. I can't send messages while we're in hyperspace but I'll see to a detailed report as soon as I've settled in on Korriban._

"I'll be sure to leave a good impression, then," he added, pushing his thoughts to the darkest corners of his mind as he regarded Kara with a solemn look, which he'd slowly let slip into the cool and confident smile Baro had advised him.


End file.
